


Intrinsic

by buttered_onions



Series: Like Those Before: a Star Wars/Voltron AU [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, tumblr requests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-18 20:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10624659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttered_onions/pseuds/buttered_onions
Summary: The first time Shiro felt the Force.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a prompt on tumblr and spiraled out of control ~~as usual~~. To celebrate the release of the Episode VIII teaser I'm posting it here today! Enjoy!

Shiro’s known the Force for as long as he can remember.

Even if this isn’t the _first_ first time, it’s certainly one of the most defining.

  

“It is too late,” the Pashoni leader says. Her face is ashen but firm, her beetle-like eyes and the green markings of her crown of office stoic and unyielding. “I am sorry, young Jedi. There is no way we will reach them in time.”

“But my Master’s down there,” Shiro cries.

The training bond in the back of his mind has been silent for six terrifying minutes, stretching on to seven. Eight. Shiro’s tried again and again, but there’s no response. There’s _nothing_ , nothing but the horrified whispers from the Pashonians gathering with Shiro at the top of the hill and the dust rising from the rockslide at the bottom.

 _Stay here,_ Master Ulaz had said. The cart down into the mines had only been big enough for one person to join the workers heading below.

 _Stay here,_ Master Ulaz had said, laying his large hand on top of Shiro’s head, thumb pressing gently against the center of Shiro’s forehead. It is a calming gesture for the Galra people, with their sagittal crest; Shiro’s used to it. At the tender age of thirteen he still barely comes up to Master Ulaz’s waist.

_Stay here._

Here, staring down at the settling remnants of the rockslide neatly blocking the only access to the caves.

“There must be something we can do!” Shiro says, desperate. His Master’s silence in his head is a gaping void, pressing at him like cotton. He can’t ignore it. This is _wrong._

“I am sorry,” Pamaria, elected royalty of the Pashonians, repeats. Her voice is as inflectionless as always; she towers beside him with her species’ incredible height. Shiro can’t look up at her, he can’t. “There is nothing to be done. Young Jedi, come away. You will do yourself no good by remaining.”

Shiro shakes his head, stubborn and upset. The noon sun glints off the pale grass. “Master Ulaz isn’t dead. I’d have felt it!”

“The truth can be hard to accept,” Pamaria says softly. She lays one of her four long hands on his shoulder. “Sometimes failure occurs. Is this not what your Master was trying to teach you last night?”

Shiro jerks away from her grip, staring up in alarm.

_“I can’t do this,” Shiro says. The little river stone sits exactly in the middle of the mat, precisely as it has for the last half hour._

_“Again,” Master Ulaz says simply, reaching out to reposition the rock minutely. “Balance, Shiro. You can do this.”_

_“I can’t,” Shiro insists, frustrated near to whining. He’s frustrated, he’s bored, he’s tired and the last thing he wants is to be sitting cross-legged on a wide porch staring at a_ rock. _“Master Ulaz, I can’t. I don’t get this. It’s impossible.”_

_“Because you are not focusing,” Master Ulaz says, as blunt as always. “No mountain was ever moved without first shifting a single stone. Are you giving up?”_

Heat rushes to Shiro’s cheeks, flushed and ashamed. “That’s private.”

“Then you should not have had your lesson out-of-doors,” Pamaria corrects. The crown of office sits atop her ears; her people murmur their agreement. “I am sorry this is a lesson learned this way, but loss happens, and failure is a part of life. We must move on.”

“He’s my Master,” Shiro protests, heated. The wind’s picking up. A slight gust ripples through the wide fabric of Pamaria’s regal robe, pushes up against the long hems of Shiro’s padawan sleeves. “He’s all I have!”

“And we will sing his name tonight with the others.” Pamaria places one of her four hands on his shoulder again. This time Shiro does not pull away. She squeezes in what’s probably meant to be reassurance. Camaraderie. It burns. “With all who mourn.”

No. No, no, no. Hot tears spring to Shiro’s eyes. Master Ulaz doesn’t deserve just a _song -_

“Take him back to the City,” Pamaria commands, to an assistant. Her hand on Shiro’s shoulder is heavy, a leaden weight like iron and chains. “Contact the Jedi Council to arrange a ride home for him. I will remain here until the bodies are found.”

“Come, young Jedi,” the assistant - Pirolin - says kindly. A different hand takes his other shoulder, leading him away. Shiro can’t - he can’t -

The breeze brushes at his cheek as Shiro turns to follow. The tiniest of gestures, and with it the tiniest of words.

_Patience._

Shiro’s eyes widen.

“Young Jedi?” Pirolin inquires, pausing too. Shiro doesn’t hear them. He’s staring down the cliffside at the mess of rock and dirt, blocking the way.

Something stirs in him, billowing up from inside. It’s small and quiet, real and true.

_Yes, you can._

The Something hums.

“He’s not dead,” Shiro breathes, and tears away from the grip on his shoulder.

“Young Jedi! Where are you going?!”

Shiro doesn’t answer. His feet fly down the grassy hill, robe billowing out behind him. Pashonians peel out of his way, shouting after him; Shiro doesn’t stop until he’s fully reached the bottom of the slope, onto the flat stretch of barren road leading to the caves. He runs, and only when he can go no further does Shiro skid to a halt.

The new wall of rock and dirt looms above him, impenetrable and massive. Three huge boulders block the entrance, packed tight with fallen dirt, bright grass, remnants of trees and bushes. The largest of the boulders is twice as wide as Shiro’s teenage self and easily three times as high.

His heart sinks. None of the Pashonian’s digging equipment would ever be able to lift this. Not in time. There’s no way.

It’s impossible.

_“Are you giving up?”_

_Shiro fidgets. The little rock stares back at him, no bigger than his thumb. Something so simple, so elusive. Mocking him. Shiro doesn’t understand. The theory, sure, but this? “Master, I can’t - ”_

_“Yes, you can,” Master Ulaz says, again. Carefully he returns the rock to its original position; carefully he settles back on his heels. Even seated he is so much larger than Shiro. “Breathe, Padawan. Have patience with the rock and with yourself. Trust in the living Force.”_

_Shiro gasps, eyes wide. “The Force is alive?”_

_“Yes,” Master Ulaz answers, smiling small and true. Like he always does when Shiro asks a good - or surprising - question. “The Force is in everything. Be patient, my youngling. Patience yields focus. You will feel it too, in time, but only if you do not give up.”_

As if in a dream Shiro steps forward, simultaneously drifting and hyper-aware of every movement around him. The grass, swaying at his feet. The biggest of the boulders, sun-warm beneath his tentative fingers. The breeze, singing at his neck. His Padawan braid, brushing against his collarbone. A force bigger than him, humming summer-bright beneath his skin.

“Patience yields focus,” Shiro whispers.

He presses his hand against the rock. The stillness in his mind where his Master should be is jarring.

The sudden warmth where the wind blows is _new._

“Young Jedi,” a voice exclaims from behind him. Pirolin has followed, undoubtedly gaping, undoubtedly confused. Shiro doesn’t turn. “What are you doing?!”

“Saving my Master,” Shiro replies, and closes his eyes.

 

 

The rock moves.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment if you liked this little piece! You're also totally welcome to swing by [my tumblr](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com), where an announcement concerning this AU series may or may not appear within the next few days. ;) Happy weekend!


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